Scorned Royals... dangerous.
Conor sat in the crowded courtroom, the tension so thick it felt like the air had turned solid. He scanned the room, eyes moving from the panel of stern-faced judges to the crowd packed into the wooden benches.The trial had reached a pivotal moment, and the air was buzzing with anticipation. Kelan Benedict sat at the defense table, his expression more smug than it had any right to be, given the new evidence that had just been introduced. But that smugness was starting to crack, and Conor could see it.Across the room, Kerrigan sat next to Reilynn and Sorcha, her presence calm but commanding. She had been the spearhead of the investigation, relentless in her pursuit of justice for the victims Kelan had left in his wake. This trial had become more than just a fight against the Benedict family—it had become a test of everything Kerrigan stood for. And so far, the tides were shifting in her favor.The room hushed as the next witness was called. A woman, pale and visibly shaken, stepped f
Conor watched Kerrigan closely as they made their way back to their quarters, her steps slower than usual, her shoulders tight with tension.The day’s testimonies had been brutal—Kelan's victims had come forward, one after the other, recounting their pain, their loss, the horror of what Kelan had done to their loved ones.Each word, each tear-streaked face had cut deeper into Kerrigan, and Conor could feel the weight of it pressing down on her.They walked in silence for a while, the echo of their footsteps filling the empty corridor. Kerrigan hadn’t spoken much since the trial had ended for the day, her mind distant, her emotions tightly coiled beneath the surface.Conor could feel her exhaustion, her growing struggle to contain the warlike energy of Abraxas that stirred within her, reacting to the heightened emotions of the trial.As they entered their quarters, Faolan padded in after them, ever watchful. Kerrigan sank into a chair by the hearth, her gaze fixed on the dancing flames
Conor watched from the shadows of the council chamber as the discussions droned on. He could feel Kerrigan’s growing unease beside him, the subtle shifts in the room not lost on either of them.The High Council, which had once been a place where Kerrigan’s voice held weight, was beginning to turn.Conversations were becoming more fragmented, and the same member who had supported her so staunchly a few weeks ago, Councilor Merric, now seemed intent on subtly steering discussions away from her cause.Conor could see it in the way Merric phrased his questions, how he cast doubt on her evidence without outright discrediting it.Kerrigan’s knuckles tightened against the armrest of her chair, her frustration masked by a calm expression. She noticed the shift too. Conor had learned to read her well, even in these formal settings where every word, every glance, could tip the balance of power.The tension in the room was palpable, and Conor could feel the weight of Abraxas thrumming through Ke
The courtroom buzzed with tension, the weight of the trial pressing down on everyone present. Kerrigan stood at the center, her sharp gaze fixed on the opposing council member as he droned on about technicalities meant to stall the proceedings.She had been at the forefront of this battle for weeks, navigating every twist and turn with relentless determination. But today, something was different. A dull ache throbbed at her temples, and her vision blurred at the edges, a telltale sign that Abraxas’s power was taking its toll.Kerrigan steadied herself, gripping the podium as the council member continued his arguments. Each time she tried to subdue the power within her, the strain grew worse, pulling at her like a heavy anchor dragging her down.Abraxas’s presence was always there, lurking beneath the surface, offering strength but demanding a price. She had known the risks—knew that his power wanted justice, wanted to unleash on these twisted men—but she hadn’t expected its toll to ca
The city of Golan buzzed with a restless energy that never seemed to fade, even in the early morning hours. Skyscrapers towered over the old royal palace, a relic of ancient times now surrounded by the gleaming steel and glass of modernity. It was a place where history and innovation collided, where the power struggles of the past echoed in the political maneuverings of the present. Conor and Kerrigan moved through the palace’s grand halls, past sleek marble floors and opulent chandeliers, their minds already miles away, focused on the dangerous journey ahead.They couldn’t afford to be seen as anything less than composed; the trial demanded their full attention. But every moment in the courtroom felt like a countdown, ticking away the time they had left to secure the Valtas bond. Abraxas’s power was pushing Kerrigan to her limits, and the bond was the only way to temper it. Yet making their escape from the city was proving nearly impossible.Conor glanced at Kerrigan as they stepped i
The helicopter descended softly onto the lush grounds of Lokir estate, its blades slicing through the still night air. Conor and Kerrigan disembarked, their nerves taut as they set foot on the ancient land.Lokir, nestled hours north of Golan, was a secluded sanctuary, far from the prying eyes of the capital and the King’s spies who relentlessly watched their every move. Tonight, the estate’s serene, moonlit beauty was both a comfort and a reminder of the importance of what they were about to do.They were greeted by the Duke and Duchess of Targu, whose warm smiles masked the gravity of the night’s ceremony. The Duke, dressed in a dark suit with subtle dragon insignias, offered Conor a firm handshake, while the Duchess embraced Kerrigan warmly.“You made it safely,” the Duke said, his voice thick with relief. “We’ve prepared everything as you requested.”“Thank you,” Conor replied, feeling the weight of his robes, the traditional attire of the Priest of Celia, pressing against his shou
The morning sun filtered through the curtains of their private suite, casting a warm glow on the intricately carved wooden beams overhead. Conor and Kerrigan lay side by side, their breathing slow and synchronized, their hands still entwined from the night before.The bond had been sealed in every sense—mind, body, and soul—and the connection between them now thrummed like a living, breathing thing.Kerrigan opened her eyes first, blinking against the soft morning light. Her senses were heightened, every sound and scent vivid and sharp. She turned to look at Conor, who was already watching her, his expression a mix of love and wonder.“How are you feeling?” Conor asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. There was a new warmth in his voice, a protective edge that hadn’t been there before.Kerrigan smiled, feeling the strange yet comforting weight of their bond settle within her. “Stronger. A bit sore… but more... complete. And you?”“The same,” Conor replied, though
When they returned, the capital had changed. What had once been a city of whispers was now a place of open gossip, where slanderous headlines and false narratives about Conor and Kerrigan spread like wildfire.The Benedicts' smear campaign was relentless, twisting the truth, framing Kerrigan as power-hungry and Conor as a man unworthy of his station. Every news report painted them as the villains, their bond a source of scandal and suspicion.onor could feel the weight of the trial pressing down on all of them. Gregor Benedict and his son Kelan were not only fighting in the courtroom, but they had taken their battle to the streets, using their wealth and influence to sway public opinion.The lies they spun were doing damage, and Conor knew something needed to change before it spiraled out of control.Their short time away had been much needed but now, returning to the cesspit that the trial had become was frustrating to say the least.Kerrigan was doing her best but her nerves were fra